


Let me be your apple

by seren_ccd



Category: Firefly, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, shiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DI Lestrade has some questions about an engine.  Kaylee is more than willing to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me be your apple

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Four at the Thousand Faces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/209603) by [Morgan_Stuart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Stuart/pseuds/Morgan_Stuart). 



> This is pretty much a direct result of reading ’s fic [Four at the Thousand Faces](http://morganstuart.livejournal.com/8628.html). She had the idea of Kaylee meeting our lovely Inspector and I kind of ran with that concept. This is definitely AU for _Firefly_ , as in there are no spaceships, but the characters are the same. All the information regarding cars, motorbikes and engines comes from Wikipedia. Beta'd by the lovely .

It never occurred to Lestrade to use the word ‘boring’ to describe his life. But one night, after a gruelling month of work and chasing after Sherlock Holmes who was chasing after a murderer, Lestrade found himself staring at the contents of his refrigerator (an empty jar of mustard, one egg, an empty milk carton and something that may have been a tomato at some point) and he actually had the thought that even if Sherlock and John’s refrigerator was packed with a severed head and an array of toes and fingers, at least it was packed with something _interesting_.

He stood up straight and slammed the refrigerator door shut contemplating the significance of his jealousy over a refrigerator filled with body parts.

The phrase ‘sad bastard’ drifted behind his eyes.

“Christ,” he muttered.

Then he grabbed a Chinese take away menu and ordered enough fried rice and chow mein to last him for at least three days.

After he finished off his last spring roll and drained his can of Stella, he considered his life.

“I’m not looking for anything brilliant, you know,” he said out loud to the Match of the Day presenters on the telly. “Just…something… I don’t know. Nice.”

Yeah. Nice would be…nice.

He snorted at himself and turned up the volume. No matter how ‘nice’ something ‘nice’ would be, it was incredibly rare in his line of work.

 

‘Let it go, old man,’ he thought. ‘Nice isn’t exactly waiting around the corner from the Met.’

But it _was_ waiting across the street from a café that had been robbed.

***

Saffron’s Café was the latest café to be was robbed in broad daylight by a gang that had been plaguing Lestrade's inbox for weeks. As he and his team finished up questioning the staff, he directed Donovan to start questioning the surrounding businesses. Lestrade decided to start at Washburne’s Garage across the street himself. He didn't expect to get any kind of description, but for the sake thoroughness, he headed over.

In all honesty, he really just wanted to take a gander at the Triumph that was sitting in one of the bays. But that was neither here nor there.

He strode up to the oddly clean-cut, ginger fellow standing in the doorway of the office watching the police still milling about the café and pavement.

"Hey," Lestrade said jerking his chin in greeting.

"Afternoon, officer," the fellow said, his American accent giving Lestrade only the slightest of pauses. "I didn't see anything if that's what you're over here for. Sorry. It’s a real shame. They’ve got really good soup."

The guy actually sounded sorry, which gave Lestrade pause again.

"Hear anything?" Lestrade asked, trying not to look over at the Triumph.

The fellow opened his mouth to answer when another cheerful American voice said, "Oh, yeah! The getaway car was definitely a 1985 Saab coupe. Not sure about the colour, but I'm pretty sure it's goin' to be beige, 'cause that was the most popular for that model."

Lestrade turned halfway through her speech and had to work fairly hard to keep his jaw from dropping.

She was slightly shorter than him with her sandy brown hair piled up on her head. Her coveralls looked worn and comfortable with smudges of grease and oil, including a daub on her cheek that he wanted to smooth away with her thumb. Then he wanted to smooth his thumb over her lips and see if she tasted as sweet as she looked and that thought was so terribly inappropriate, he had to physically shake his head to eradicate it.

"You, ah." Lestrade had to clear his throat. “You saw the car, did you?”

“Oh, no,” she said smiling. “I heard it. It has a very distinctive catch when it shifts into third. They managed to fix it in some of the later models, but it was there all the way ‘til the 80s.”

Lestrade blinked and snuck a look at the ginger fellow who was just grinning at the young woman.

“Kaylee, what have we said about scaring people with your wacky knowledge about automobiles?” he said giving Lestrade an apologetic look.

“Make sure they really want to know first?” ‘Kaylee’ offered, her smile sweet and crooked.

“Oh, I really want to know,” Lestrade said a touch too quickly. He cleared his throat. Again. “Did you notice anything else?”

She frowned, then said, “Well, it was running pretty sweetly, which means they’ve got the means to keep it in shape. They’ve either got their own garage or they’ve got money. I’d check some of the specialist shops over in Camden. They’ll’ve had to get their parts from somewhere.”

Lestrade nodded slowly. “Uh, and you’re sure it was a Saab?”

“Oh, yes,” she said nodding enthusiastically. “It was a Saab. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Well, thank you, Miss—“ He looked at her expectantly.

“Frye. Kaylee Frye,” she said holding out her hand. “But call me Kaylee.” She nodded her head at the ginger man. “That’s Wash, he’s the owner. And you are?”

“Lestrade,” he answered.

“Is that an Officer Lestrade or a Detective Lestrade?” she asked.

“It’s a Detective Inspector, actually,” he said. “And I have to ask—how did you, ah, know—“

Her smile was sheepish. “I know engines.”

“And alternators and carburettors and navigational systems and power steering and shocks and alignments and—“ Wash is cut off by Kaylee throwing a rag at him.

“I grew up with it all in my daddy’s garage,” she said to Lestrade. She shrugged. “I love making things go fast.”

Lestrade abruptly remembered the first time he handled a curve on his first bike (a fourth-hand Honda that had severe throttle issues) and knew _exactly_ what she was talking about.

“So…do you have a moment to take a look at the Triumph?” she asked with a smile that verged on wicked. “You’ve been glancing at her like she’s a piece of candy since you got here.”

Lestrade chuckled and looked down at his feet.

“She ain’t shy,” Kaylee said, “and I bet she’d love to show off her assets.”

Lestrade looked back up and met her eyes. He started to smirk. “I’d love to see what she’s made of, if you’re willing to show me.”

‘Christ. Where did _that_ come from?’ he wondered.

But Kaylee just grinned again and said, “Come on over.”

She showed the modifications that she’d made to the throttle and the gears, which were fantastic and Lestrade just knew the bike would be heaven to ride. He wondered why she’d learned to fix machines. He also wondered how she managed to smell like daisies or freesias or whatever the flowery scent it was while still covered in dirt and grease was beyond him.

There was a clenching feeling in his gut and lower and as she looked up at him it dawned on him that the clenching feeling was lust. Pure and simple.

He wanted her. Badly.

Well.

Hell.

***

He didn’t see her for another three weeks, although she was certainly on his mind. He’d be in the midst of a debrief and her smile would just flash behind his eyes. It was ridiculous. A man his age getting bloody _giddy_ thinking about some girl he met once. Who had probably hadn’t even given him a second thought.

However, the opportunity to see her again arose in a rather odd way.

He’d been assigned the case of tracking down some missing plans and parts from a highly prestigious engineering firm. Well, he _and_ Sherlock had been assigned the case. Lestrade suspected that the request had started with Sherlock’s brother but decided that he really didn’t want to know.

The man in charge of the project had given Lestrade something of a run-around when pressed for more details. Which made Lestrade more than a little dubious about what precisely had been stolen.

Thanks to a ‘inside tip’ (aka Mycroft Holmes), Sherlock obtained an electronic version of the plans and Lestrade wasn’t ashamed to admit that they made no sense to him whatsoever.

The fact that they didn’t make a lot of sense to Sherlock either filled Lestrade with a slight sense of superiority.

“I know that it’s an engine,” Sherlock said. “However, why this is of importance, I haven’t the faintest.”

“This isn’t the solar system all over again, is it?” Lestrade asked. “I mean, you do know that innovation in machinery _is_ rather fundamental?”

Before Sherlock could reply, John asked, “Look, why can’t we just ask the engineers what they were building? Surely _they_ know.”

“I’m getting the feeling that they may _know_ more than they’re letting on,” Lestrade said remembering the way the spokesman dodged certain lines of questioning. Then something occurred to him. “Actually, I may know someone who can help.”

“Who?” Sherlock asked scrolling through his phone. “Not someone at the Yard. They’d be less than useless.”

“No, not with the Yard,” Lestrade said heading down the street. “Someone else. Someone I met a few weeks back. You coming?”

“I’m not taking the Underground, Lestrade!” Sherlock called after him. He hailed a cab and Lestrade, with a commiserating look with John, got in after the swish of Sherlock’s coat.

They pulled up to the front of Washburne’s Garage and Sherlock made a face. “Honestly?”

“Look, they’re good,” Lestrade said. “And they’re wholly unconnected to the case. If they don’t know what the thing does, then all we’re out is cab fare.”

The three men walked inside and Wash looked up from the BMW he was working on.

“Hey,” he said to Lestrade in greeting. “Thanks for catching those guys. We can eat our soup in peace now.”

“Happy to serve,” Lestrade said. “Think you could take a look at something for me?”

Wash grabbed a rag from his pocket. “What kind of something?”

“An engine,” Lestrade said. “Not sure what kind.”

Wash grinned. “Oh, I see. It’s not me you want. Kaylee!”

“Yeah?” her voice came from the bay beneath an aging Range Rover.

“Someone’s here for you,” Wash said still grinning at Lestrade who could feel the weight of Sherlock and John’s gaze on him.

“Be right up. I think the brake lines are done for on this guy, Wash,” Kaylee said as she pulled herself up the ladder. “I’ll have to break it to Mr Davies gently. Inspector!”

The feeling that hit Lestrade upon seeing her smile directly at him was so powerful, he nearly winced. This had been such a bad idea. All the _lust_ he’d felt the first time he met her surged back to life inside him.

“Miss Frye,” he said silently thanking whatever deity happened to be listening for not letting his voice crack. He ignored Sherlock’s raised eyebrow.

“Have you come back for the Triumph?” she asked walking over to the gentlemen. “She’s still lookin’ for that ride, you know.”

“I can only imagine,” he said meeting her grin with one of his own.

“Who’re your friends?” she asked transferring her grin to Sherlock and John.

“This is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson,” Lestrade said. “They’re, ah, colleagues.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kaylee said wiping her hand on a pink bandanna before offering it to both Sherlock and John. Sherlock’s eyebrow remained arched even as he shook her hand. John gave her a nod and a small smile. She paused and tilted her head.

“Wait,” she said. “Holmes and Watson. Oh, a Study in Pink! I read your blog!”

Lestrade had to cover his snort and laugh with a cough, while John looked taken aback and Sherlock glared at John.

“Oh, do you?” Sherlock asked while continuing to glare at John.

“Oh, yeah,” Kaylee said. “I’ve told everyone about it.”

“Isn’t that just delightful?” Sherlock said.

John swallowed hard. “I’m glad to know people are reading it.”

“You’ve got an amazing style and the mysteries are just incredible,” Kaylee said sincerely.

“Thank you,” John said blushing slightly.

“Please,” Sherlock said under his breath.

“So, what I do for you, inspector?” Kaylee asked turning her smile back to him. “We’ve actually got a Royal Enfield Bullet in getting something of an overhaul, if you’re interested.”

“Fuck, really?” he asked leaning forward. “A Bullet? What year?”

“1962.”

“Christ,” he said shaking his head.

“As utterly fascinating as this truly is,” Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

“Yes. Right,” Lestrade said with a cough. “I actually need your professional opinion on something.”

Her grin broadened into a smile. “Shiny! Whatcha got?”

“It’s an engine of some sort,” Lestrade said pulling up the plans and handing his phone to Kaylee.

She took the phone and furrowed her brow as she looked at the small screen. Then her brow smoothed out.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Is this real?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lestrade said. “Do you know what it does?”

“I know that it’s dangerous,” she said hurriedly flicking through the scans. “And freakin’ gorgeous! Wow.”

“So, what does it do?” John asked.

“It’ll give you the ride of your life, for one thing,” Kaylee said. “But see, it’s got these compression coils wrapped around the muffler—“

And Lestrade was lost after that. Not only lost in the explanation that was just beyond his understanding, but also just lost. Lost in her enthusiasm, lost her eyes that were bloody _shining_ and he was just fucking _gone_ over this girl. Just like that.

Shite.

Kaylee finished up her explanation and looked at her audience. Wash was shaking his head in disbelief apparently at what she’d just described.

Finally Sherlock broke the silence with, “So, it will run more quietly?”

“Oh, no,” Kaylee said her eyes wide. “It’ll run _silently_. This thing’ll sneak up behind you and steal your panties before you can say ‘cool breeze’.” She shook her head and gazed at the plans. “I’d love to work on her. Can you imagine how pretty she’d run? The secret places you could get into?”

“Not that this establishment has ever done anything of the sort,” Wash added looking far too sincere.

“Oh, right,” Kaylee said absently still scrolling through the plans. “Although… I might leave the straight and narrow for a chance to work on her.”

“She's kidding,” Wash said hurriedly.

“I don’t know. Wash, it's got a turbo thrust. The _good_ kind.”

“Really?” He walked over and stood next to her to see the screen. He whistled. “Oh, baby, come to daddy.”

“I'm tellin’, Zoe,” Kaylee said.

“You do and you're fired,” Wash said.

Kaylee looked up at Lestrade and said, “Hey, when you find her, do you think I could take a look at her insides?”

“What makes you think he’s going to find…her?” Sherlock asked.

Kaylee frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Lestrade knew he was extremely close to blushing and was thankful that Sherlock simply blinked at Kaylee and then just gave Lestrade a Look.

“I’m not altogether sure it’d be strictly legal to let you have a look at evidence, should we find her,” Lestrade told Kaylee.

“Oh, please?” Kaylee asked. “I promise I won’t take notes or pictures.”

Wash snorted. “You won’t need to, you’ll remember it anyway-“ Kaylee elbowed him in the side – “Ow. Sorry.”

Lestrade felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

“I promise not to tell anyone,” Kaylee said seriously. She put her hand on her heart. “On my honour.”

How the hell was Lestrade supposed to say no to that? The look that both John and Wash were giving him said the same thing. Sherlock just looked thoughtful.

“We’ll see,” Lestrade said. “We’ve got to find the blokes first.”

“You will,” she said with such natural conviction that Lestrade had to fight the urge to puff out his chest.

Christ.

“You have a sec to check out the Bullet?” she asked, her lips curving honest-to-God seductively. Lestrade felt his own mouth curve upwards and whether it was because of her or the chance to see a true 1962 Royal Enfield Bullet he wasn’t completely sure (it was because of her).

“I’ve got to get back to the Yard,” Lestrade said with true regret.

“Duty calls?” she said.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said.

“You’ll call me when you find her, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll call you,” and he knew really, really shouldn’t, but fuck the rules, she’s incredible.

The smile she gave him bordered on radiant, while he was sure his bordered on stupid.

They found the car two days later. Well, Sherlock found the car two days later, but Lestrade was right behind him and it was Lestrade who ended up with the bruise on his jaw from one of the henchmen who’d stolen the plans and the parts.

After they were booked and the fact that it _had_ been the head of the firm who’d orchestrated the whole thing had been brought to light, Lestrade picked up his phone and called Kaylee.

It took her less than an hour to get to the Yard’s garage. Lestrade waited for her outside the garage and when she pulled up on her vintage azurro blue Vespa, he had to work very hard not to stare as she hopped off wearing a jeans skirt and a fitted brown leather jacket. It was the first time he’d seen her in something other than coveralls, and while her legs were encased in burgundy tights, they were still fucking fantastic. The fact that she was also wearing heeled leather boots was just icing on the cake.

Her bright smile in greeting faded quickly as she stepped in close. “What happened?” she asked as her hand came up to gently touch his bruise.

Lestrade was dismayed to realise that his voice sounded strained as he answered, “Just a tap, it’s not a big deal.”

“All the same,” she said looking concerned as her hand smoothed over his jaw. She bit her lip and went a little pink when his stubble caught on her palm.

Well, that was relief. He _wasn’t_ the only one affected by this whole thing.

He couldn’t help it: he grinned and said, “You should have seen me my first year on the job.”

She grinned back. “A shiner every other week?”

“With a few cracked ribs every three months,” he said.

“Bruiser,” she teased.

“You have no idea, Miss Frye,” he said.

“I think I’d like to,” she said, her eyes wide and guileless.

Whatever he was going to say (and he really had no idea what it was going to be) was interrupted by Francis the Yard’s mechanic.

“Oi, Inspector! I can only keep the lads away for so long,” he said, his moustache twitching in what Lestrade suspected was amusement. “You wanna get your girl in here or not?”

Lestrade gave Francis his best ‘I’m the bloody DI, you prat’ look, which Francis just grinned at, and then put his hand on Kaylee’s lower back to guide her into the garage.

She went silent as she looked at the low-slung Mercedes that had been modified by the engineers. Lestrade watched her as she walked slowly around the car, opened the driver’s side door and sat down.

She looked at him. “Can I turn her on?”

He nodded and handed her the keys. The car barely hummed as she turned it on. Kaylee closed her eyes and listened.

“Wow,” she whispered. Then she opened her eyes and a determined look came over her face. She popped the hood and got out of the car. The next several minutes were spent with Lestrade just watching as she looked at every single inch of the engine and muttering to herself.

“Hey, can I have a look under her?” Kaylee asked Francis.

“Knock yourself out, love,” he called back.

Kaylee shut the car off and pulled a dolly over with her foot. Then with a practiced ease, laid down on it and rolled under the car. Lestrade tried not to stare at her legs.

He didn’t succeed, but he did _try_.

Kaylee sighed as she rolled back from underneath and stared up at the ceiling. “She’s lovely. What a shame.”

“Why?” Lestrade asked quietly, wondering why she had such a sad look to her. “Why is it a shame?”

She got to her feet and seemed to need to collect her thoughts before speaking.

“Because, they’re not building her for beauty or appreciation. They aren’t doing it to create something pure and genuine,” Kaylee said. “They’re building her to see what kind of damage she can do. What can she tear down when it gets in her way.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “She’s as beautiful as a symphony and as deadly as sin.”

Lestrade stared at her profile seeing unshed tears in her eyes. When she turned to face him, he honestly had to force himself not to reach for her.

He settled for saying, “There are a lot of questions I should probably ask you, aren’t there?”

She gave him a tiny smile. “Probably.”

He nodded, then without quite knowing why, he offered her his arm. She let out the softest of giggles and took it.

“Thank you,” she said as they headed out of the garage. “For letting me have a look at her. Where will she go now?”

“DOD, most likely,” Lestrade said.

“Figures,” Kaylee said with more grimness than he thought her capable of. But she shook her head and asked, “So, what are we doing for our second date?”

He wasn’t taken aback exactly, although it was a near thing. His eyes still widened and he said, “Uh, second date?”

“Well, yeah,” Kaylee said her lips curving into a grin. “You took me somewhere I hadn’t been before and showed me something pretty. That definitely constitutes a date in my book.”

Lestrade blinked and it occurred to him that there were a number of reasons as to why he should _not_ ask her out. Not the least being the fact that he was pretty sure that he was at least a dozen years, if not more, older than her. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t actually been on a date in going on six years.

But, he found himself saying, “How do you feel about Indian food?” and couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Especially when her reply was a blinding smile and, “I love it. The spicier the better.”

If he happened to smirk at odd moments during the rest of the day, well…who could blame him?

***

They decided to meet at the Agra, Lestrade’s favourite curry house the following Thursday. He had only been waiting for a few minutes outside when she came strolling up. This time her legs were bare underneath a rose-coloured dress and her hair was down, loose and soft over her shoulders. She still wore her leather jacket.

She happily ordered a chicken Kashmiri as spicy as they could make it (“I know it’s kind of lame, but I love the taste of the banana”) while he got his usual lamb Rogan Josh. They split a couple of appetizers and he asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her.

“How on earth did you end up in London?” he asked.

“Oh, Inspector,” she said dipping a corner of a poppadum into the hot sauce. “How does a girl _ever_ end up far from home?”

“Ah. A bloke?” he asked.

She nodded. “Although, to be fair, he wasn’t the one who got me out of my hometown, but he was the one that I ended up in Europe for. Which,” she said looking him in the eyes, “I have no regrets about.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a nod of his head. “Can I ask why you’re not still with him?” He winced. “I mean…” She looked amused and just watched him. He gave up trying to be tactful and said, “Look, you’re bloody gorgeous and brilliant, so I imagine it had to be you were the one who left. And I’m being too personal. Sorry.”

“Hey, this is a second date,” Kaylee said still looking amused. “This is when you’re supposed to ask all the personal questions. I mean, in a sec, after I answer your question, I’m going to ask about your wedding ring.”

Lestrade’s eyes widened and he looked down at his hand. “Shite. I forgot to take it off.” He pulled it off and stuck it in his pocket before he looked back up at her. “It’s not _real_ , I’m not a cheat.”

“Oh, I know,” she said. “Because neither am I. And you’re right, I did the leaving. Near broke my heart to do it. In fact, I’m pretty sure it _did_ break my heart to do it. But…”

Lestrade had practice on waiting on answers, so he was patient.

“Simon’s a doctor,” Kaylee said as she systematically poked at her poppadum, breaking it into smaller pieces. “From a very good family. We kinda fell into love during a, well, crazy time in our lives and for a while it was…beyond perfect.” She smiled down at her plate. “And after the craziness ended and when things were supposed to fall into normal, little things started to poke through.”

She looked up at Lestrade. “I barely graduated from high school and I’ve had grease under my nails since I was knee high to a grasshopper.”

He nodded. “You’re talking to a former punk who had severe problems with authority.”

“And you’re a copper now?” she teased. “Oh, this story I’ve got to hear.”

“After I hear what happened to the doctor,” he said.

They paused while their food was served and Kaylee made the most sinful sounds over her chicken and Lestrade had to force himself _not_ to pull her over the table to swallow the moans with his mouth.

“Anyway,” she said, “once it kinda occurred to us that while we may have worked perfect in some places, things were heading towards a not so great place. I was worried that I’d embarrass him and he was worried that he was worrying about the same thing and the last thing either of us wanted to do was hurt each other.”

She frowned. “Wash and Zoe, Wash’s wife, had moved here and Wash opened up the garage and he offered me a job, right about the time Simon was offered something in Boston which was great for him so he could be near his sister.” She sighed. “So, I came to London and he went to Boston. I spose most folks call it ‘amicable’.”

“But you call it the hardest thing you’ve ever done,” Lestrade said.

“Yeah,” she said pushing some rice around on her plate. “Pretty damn hard. We still talk and I consider him one of the best friends I’ve ever had, so, that’s something.”

Lestrade nodded. “I wear the ring because it makes people open up more. And because it makes it easier to, well…”

“Not feel like you’ve gotta find someone?” she offered.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said.

“Makes sense.” She took a bite of her dinner and then smirked. “’Course, I didn’t just come to London to mend a broken heart, you know.”

“Oh?”

“I also came here for the cars,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Y'all have the sweetest little cars over here. They're such a delight to play with. I've got my eye on a 1978 Chevette HS.”

“Isn’t that one of the old rally car models,” he asked. “Those things were fast.”

“I want to see if I can one of ‘em fly,” she said leaning over her plate as if she was telling him a secret.

He whistled. “You are a dangerous woman, Miss Frye.”

“Only when I’m under the hood,” she said grinning. “And look, I gotta be totally honest. It’s been three years since Simon ‘n me split up and I really like you. And I very much would like to see if you’re as much of a beast in bed as I think you are.” Lestrade was proud of himself for not choking on his own breath. “But if you’re just looking for a friend, well then, I’m totally cool with that too.”

Lestrade just stared at her for a moment. Then he said, “I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and I would like to see where this might go. I’d also _very_ much like to have you in my bed.” She blinked and blushed, but he went on, “I’d also like to be your friend, as well. Is that too much of a demand?”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. “A relationship, friendship and sex, let me think…” She nodded. “Nope. Sounds shiny, inspector. But, I’d like to know one thing first.”

“Anything,” he said.

“Do you have a first name?” she asked with a grin.

After dessert (mango lassies for both of them) and settling the bill, he helped her into her jacket and deliberately let his fingers trail across her neck. She gave him a look that was part knowing and all receptive.

“I’ve got coffee at my flat,” she said once they were outside the restaurant. “If you happen to like coffee, that is.”

“It so happens that I _do_ like coffee,” he told her.

She grinned and took his hand, gently tugging him towards the Underground station nearby.

They stood on the platform waiting for the next train to take them to Kaylee’s flat. Her hand was warm and firm in his hand. He looked down just as she looked up.

The smile she gave him was honest and kind and she leaned up to press her lips to his. His hand cupped her cheek and he deepened the kiss by sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips. She sighed into his mouth and his hand slid to cradle the back of her head, his fingers sifting through her hair. She pressed against him and tightened her grip on his other hand.

The oncoming train stirred the air around them and her hair flew around their faces. She pulled back and licked her lips.

He stared at her, riddled with lust and want and desire and _contentment_.

Kaylee just grinned and said, “Knew it.”

“Oh, did you?” he said ignoring how breathless he sounded.

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. Then walking backwards she got onto the train, Lestrade following her with a grin.

Kaylee explained that her building was actually owned by a friend of hers and that she rented a flat on the second floor. As they walked inside and Lestrade took in the high ceilings and expensive looking hardwood floor of the foyer, he wondered just what it was her friend did.

“Inara’s in public relations,” Kaylee said over her shoulder as they headed up the stairs. He arched a brow at her answer to his unasked question. She shrugged and said, “You have a very expressive face. Plus everyone always wants to know.”

They walked to her door and Lestrade realised when she let his hand go, that they had been holding hands since they left the restaurant. He fought to hide the dumb grin that wanted to spread across his face. She unlocked her door and his eyes widened as he got his first look at her flat.

It wasn’t very big, but felt spacious. It was practically a studio flat with only a screen that separated what was clearly Kaylee’s bed from the rest of the room. Her kitchen was in a corner of the room and a large table with bits of machinery took up most of the room. Every wall was covered with something colourful.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said with a nod. She gave him a quick smile and kissed his lips briefly then headed to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

He took off his coat and hung it up next to hers on the coat rack, then headed over to the bookcase filled with pictures. Kaylee was in a number of them grinning broadly. He spotted Wash and a stunning woman with incredible eyes that had to be Zoe as they both wore rings and were looking at each other with an incredible amount of love. He also saw another lovely woman with dark hair and impeccable cheekbones smiling softly. A handsome young man with dark hair was in a few, often with his arm around Kaylee’s shoulder.

‘The doctor,’ Lestrade thought when he saw one where the young man was looking at Kaylee with what could only be described as affection.

“That’s my family,” she said walking up behind him. She had taken her shoes off and her feet made no sound as she walked to just in front of him. She started to point out different places she’d been and told him anecdotes about each of the pictures.

At one point, she swept her hair off one shoulder and he was struck by the line of her throat and the desire to see how it tasted. So he moved. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips over her skin just beneath her ear. Kaylee sucked in a gasp and froze. He ghosted his lips again, strands of her hair tickled his nose. He let his tongue dart out for a brief taste and she shivered and tilted her head to the side. Lestrade slid his hands around her waist as she blindly reached back with her hand to cup the back of his head.

“I’d like to kiss you all over. I want you in every way possible,” he murmured into her ear before nipping at the lobe. “Tell me to stop, Kaylee.”

“Not a chance, inspector,” she said before turning her head to capture his lips with her own.

They stumbled to the bedroom. Kaylee’s laughter as he swore at his shoes that refused to be kicked off and had to be unlaced was eventually swallowed by him as he licked into her mouth. She was unbelievably responsive and when he got her dress pooled around her hip, she made the sexiest noises and sighs as his hands and mouth traced every last inch of her.

He discovered a small tattoo of a strawberry on her hipbone that just begged to be kissed and when he went lower, her hands found purchase on his shoulders as her hips rocked against his mouth.

Then he was tugged back up to her smiling mouth and she flipped them over and it was her turn to tease and lick while she sat astride him all the while wearing a wicked grin. He groaned under the onslaught and then eventually flipped them again.

After that it was nothing but moans and sighs and thrusts and rolling hips and fingers clenching the bedsheet so hard it popped off the corners of the mattress.

Afterwards, they lay next to each other, the duvet kicked to the floor, Lestrade’s head on her stomach.

She shifted slightly under him and lifted a hand to her neck. She giggled.

“What?” he asked, his voice gravelly and thick.

“Just it’s totally true,” she said.

“What is?”

“You _are_ a bruiser,” she said with another giggle. He looked up, and oh sweet Christ, a bruise had formed on her skin just where her neck met her shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Kaylee,” he said sitting up. But before he could even consider apologising, her mouth was on his, licking into his mouth and he responded in kind.

“I liked it,” she said against his mouth. “And don’t even think about leaving this bed anytime soon, inspector. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Lestrade grinned and hauled her up to straddle his lap. “Fine by me. Considering we haven’t even started in on the things I want to do to you.”

Kaylee’s answer was to shift her hips and make him groan.

***

So, things for Lestrade changed a bit after that. For one, he started having a lot more sex. A _lot_ more sex. And he didn’t really have it in him to feel at all lecherous about having a lot of sex with a significantly younger woman because he was having too much bloody fun with her. And more than half the time she was the one starting things and her smile and enthusiasm was infectious. So, yeah. A lot more sex.

He was also sleeping better. Which, again, could be due to the sex (a _lot_ more sex), but was simply due to Kaylee and her, despite her energy, calming influence.

Lestrade was just leaving the Met with some files for Sherlock when his phone rang. He saw that it was Kaylee ringing and he answered as usual, “Heya, love.”

“Hey yourself, handsome,” a male voice said.

Lestrade frowned. “Wash? What’s going on? Where’s Kaylee?”

“Oh, she’s here. But she’s being stubborn about calling you, so I took her phone,” Wash said with a kind of forced casualness to his voice. Lestrade could hear Kaylee in the background saying she was fine while another female voice talked over her.

“Wash. What happened?” Lestrade asked.

“Some assholes came into the garage to pick up their car,” Wash said his voice tight with suppressed anger. “Kaylee went to help ‘em. They refused to pay. She told them then they couldn’t have the car. One of ‘em---“ Wash took a deep breath and Lestrade realised that his jaw ached from the way he was clenching it. “One of ‘em hit her. She hit him back with the wrench she keeps in her belt and by that time Zoe and me had come from the back.”

“Is she badly hurt?” Lestrade managed to ask.

“Well, she’s got a shiner and the medic said she probably had a concussion and that she should probably go get checked out at the A & E.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. Wash, give me back my phone!” Lestrade heard in the background.

“You can see what I’m dealing with,” Wash said. “I’m supposed to head out of town to get some parts before they get sold to someone else—“

“I’ll be right there,” Lestrade said. “Just keep her there.”

“You got it,” Wash said. “And detective?”

“Yeah?” Lestrade said getting into his car.

“She’s _is_ okay,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lestrade said. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting her out of my sight for the foreseeable future.”

“Gotcha.”

By the time he got there, the police have come and gone and Zoe and Wash were sitting with Kaylee who had a frozen blue gel pack held up to her eye. His expression must have been extremely dark when he looked at her, because she flinched.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said quietly.

“And it’s much better than it could have been,” Zoe added. Lestrade met the woman’s eyes and saw the same amount of anger and protectiveness in her eyes that he felt.

“Dare I ask if they’re still breathing?” he asked.

“Mostly,” was all Zoe said.

Lestrade nodded. He could deal with ‘mostly’.

“Right,” he said walking over to Kaylee. “You’re coming with me and then you’re staying at my place.”

“I’m fine,” she said as she stood up, but the wince and her hard grip on his coat as she swayed on her feet belied her statement.

“You’ve been hit on the head,” he said. “Coming from someone who has had his fair share of knocks on the head, you are _not_ fine. I’m this close to taking you to A &E, you know.”

“No, please,” she said looking up at him. “I don’t wanna go to the hospital. Please?”

Lestrade blew out a gusty breath and then kissed her forehead. “Fine. No hospital. But I still want a second opinion.”

Which was how they came to be at 221 Baker Street a quarter of an hour later. John met them at the door and grimaced in sympathy at Kaylee’s black eye.

“Ouch. Come on up. Just have a seat,” John said guiding Kaylee to the couch. “Let me have a quick look at that bump on your head.”

Lestrade didn’t want to hover, so he went over to see what progress Sherlock had made. However, his gaze never wavered from Kaylee.

“It’s a proper bump,” John said gently touching her head. “But the skin isn’t broken, which is good. How’s the eye?”

“Hurts,” Kaylee said. “It all kinda hurts, to be honest.”

“Well, head wounds generally do,” he said. “Look into my eyes for a minute, all right?”

“Happily,” Kaylee said with a smile. “They’re pretty eyes.”

John chuckled and Lestrade shook his head. Sherlock snorted.

After a minute, John said, “Yep. Concussion, but a minor one, I’d wager. Let’s keep you awake for the next eight hours and see how it goes. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kaylee said with a nod that made her wince. “Thank you, Doctor John.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Frye,” he replied.

“Do I get a lollipop?” she asked looking hopeful.

“Fresh out, I’m afraid,” John said with regret, “But I could probably manage a cup of tea?”

She smiled. “Even better.”

John nodded. “Lestrade? You want a cuppa?”

“Naw, I’m fine, thanks, John,” he said meeting the other man’s eyes. John just nodded again and headed into the kitchen.

After John handed Kaylee her cup of tea, he offered her something to eat. “Although, not toast, I’m afraid something’s wrong with the toaster.”

“I haven’t been near it in weeks,” Sherlock said without removing his eyes from the case files Lestrade had brought.

Kaylee made a face. “I don’t think I could eat anything, thanks though. You can bring me the toaster, if you want. I’ll have a look at its insides.”

“You can fix toasters?” John asked.

“Well, I don’t actually know,” Kaylee said. “But, I can give it a try. If it’s already broke, nothing I do could make it worse.”

“Good point. Be right back.” John headed back into the kitchen to grab the toaster.

The next hour was spent in relative quiet, Sherlock asking Lestrade questions about the case, John offering his input every so often and Kaylee tinkering away at the toaster.

Then Sherlock started sifting through a folder of photos and one fell to the ground near Kaylee’s feet. John bent to pick it up and Kaylee saw it.

“Oh, hey, what’s Badger up to these days?” Kaylee asked staring at the picture in John’s hand. The room went quiet and she bit her lip and blinked. “Not that I know who he is. Or anything.”

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and looked at her while Lestrade narrowed his eyes.

“Kaylee, you, ah, know him?” Lestrade asked.

“Um, no?” she said looking at him and giving a crooked smile.

“You know him,” he said a little flatly.

“I…no?” she tried again. Then she closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, crap. Look, you knew that I-- Well, that in the past-- Oh, crap.”

“He’s a well-known smuggler,” Lestrade said. “How the hell do you know him?”

“Because she worked with him once,” Sherlock said sounding bored. “But, clearly it’s been quite some time. He stopped going by Badger around five years ago.”

“Really?” Kaylee said dropping her hands and looking at Sherlock. “What does he go by these days?”

“Frank.”

“Really? Frank? Huh.” She frowned. “Badger’s better.”

“So you do know him?” Lestrade asked staring at her. John just sighed and took a seat on the couch next to Kaylee.

“I’ve already said she used to know him, Lestrade, do keep up,” Sherlock said. “Clearly, she’s been involved in illegal activity in the past. But hasn’t been for quite some time. Unless you count the stolen cars that most likely come through her garage. But she has no knowledge of them.”

Kaylee stared up at Sherlock. “How--?”

“You came to the UK several years ago and you know a wide variety of people in different trades,” Sherlock said. “You’ve said yourself that you _may_ have participated in activities that weren’t strictly legal, but I suspect that it was more a result of you falling in with a certain crowd as opposed to seeking them out. You obviously were never the leader or instigator, due to your level of intellect—“

“Hey!” Kaylee said.

“Sherlock,” Lestrade said.

“But you went along with whatever it was because you’re one of those people who have a desire to see that ‘good’ is done,” Sherlock said. “I suspect that whatever it was you were involved with came to a satisfactory end considering you seem to be at ease and do not suffer from remorse or guilt.” He turned to Lestrade. “She’s not innocent by any means, but she’s hardly a criminal.”

The room was silent once again. Until Kaylee broke it with a, “Wow. Do you do balloon animals, too?”

Lestrade choked on air and John suddenly found the ceiling of extreme interest as he bit his lower lip.

They stayed for another two hours after that during which Kaylee managed to fix their toaster (“It might run a little warmer now, so don’t set the timer too high.”).

“Try to stay up for the next couple of hours,” John said to Kaylee as he walked them down the stairs. “And just take it easy for the next day or two.”

“How easy?” Kaylee asked.

“Nothing too strenuous that has you moving your head around a lot,” John said.

“Well, damn,” Kaylee said with a look at Lestrade. “There goes my plan for staying up tonight.”

John let out a guffaw before covering his mouth with his hand and Lestrade mock-glared at Kaylee who looked wholly unrepentant.

“As long as things aren’t too—vigorous,” John said with a smirk. “You should be okay.”

Kaylee beamed at John and then at Lestrade as she said, “Oooh, slow and easy. I can handle that.”

There was another smothered laugh from John and Lestrade just kissed her on the forehead and said, “Let’s go before you make Watson choke on his mirth. I’ll be in touch about the case soon. And thanks again, John.”

“My pleasure,” he said.

Kaylee leaned forward and kissed John on the cheek. “Thank you, Doctor John.”

Then they were out the door and into a taxi.

When they got to Lestrade’s, Kaylee was still swaying, but more for exhaustion than her head. He made her a cup of her favourite herbal tea and joined her on the couch.

“How much longer?” she asked drowsily leaning against him and sipping her tea.

Lestrade checked his watch. “Another two hours or so. You want the telly on?”

She nodded. “ _Top Gear_ ’s on.”

He chuckled and reached for the remote. “ _Top Gear_ is always on.”

They sat in quiet for half of an episode before Kaylee spoke.

“It was never my intention to get mixed up in stuff that was against the law,” she said turning her empty mug round and round in her hands. “And I never, _ever_ thought that the ends justified the means.” She pursed her lips. “But sometimes they do.”

Lestrade just listened as she told him about Mal Reynolds and Zoe and Wash and Jayne and Inara. How at first, they just moved things from one place to another. Never anything too hot, but not always strictly legal.

“They needed a mechanic and I wanted to see the world,” Kaylee said, “so I went with them.” She sighed and snuggled closer to him. “We picked up Simon and River about a year after that and that’s when things got, well, dangerous, I guess.”

“How dangerous?” he asked his lips brushing against her brow.

“The day they joined us I kinda got shot,” she said. She squeezed his hand before he could squeeze hers, giving him the comfort he thought he needed to give her. “I can’t really tell you more, though. It’s not really my story to tell.” She sat up and looked him in the eye. “Just know that everything we did, we had to. And there is at least one person who is much, much better off for it. Possibly more than one. And I haven’t so much as jay-walked since.”

Lestrade hesitated for a moment, but it was only a moment, before he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said the corners of her mouth curving up just slightly. Then she yawned. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, sleep,” he said standing up and reaching for her. “It’s been eight hours.”

He steadied her on her feet and they headed into the bedroom. Kaylee was asleep the second her head hit the pillow, while Lestrade lay awake wondering if the fact that he found her slightly shady past more endearing than worrying said something about him.

She found out his own secret a few weeks later.

***

“Oh my God! Are these what I think they are?”

Lestrade looked up from his kitchen table that was covered in paperwork to see Kaylee standing in front of his closet staring at something.

She was over, just hanging out and fixing a bit of machinery and had asked for a spare cleaning rag. He’d told her to try the closet.

“Uh, depends,” he said. “What are you looking at?”

Kaylee turned around with an armful of his leathers.

“Oh, yeah. They’re what you think they are,” he said casually.

“Does this mean you actually have a bike?” she asked.

“It’s in the garage beneath the building,” he said with a shrug.

Kaylee gaped at him for a moment, and then dropped the leathers on the couch and rounded the table to grab his hand. The next thing Lestrade knew, he was in the garage pulling the tarp off his Kawazaki Z1000. Kaylee stared at the bike and then at him.

He shrugged. “We busted a drug gang a few years back and all their stuff went up for auction. I had a good bid.”

“She’s fantastic,” Kaylee said circling the bike. She frowned at the engine. “She also needs a touch up.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lestrade said a familiar thread of guilt weaving through his gut. “I always mean to get down here, but them…”

“Evil strikes and you’ve got to bound off to the rescue?” Kaylee offered from where she was crouched next to the sub-frame.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why haven’t you told me about her before now?” she asked running her fingers over the seat.

“I was afraid you’d scold me for having her in such bad shape,” he said.

“Well, you _have_ ,” she said giving him a look. “But, that can’t be the only reason.”

He shrugged. “Well, that and I figured I needed to keep something back in case you got bored with me.”

Right. Yeah, he didn’t mean to say that. He’d meant to keep that particular insecurity well close to his chest. Damn.

But, Kaylee just hmphed and turned around to lean against the bike, facing him.

“More like you getting bored with me,” she countered.

“Like that’s possible,” Lestrade said quickly.

“Back atcha, inspector,” she said with smile. She leaned up and kissed him, his hand instantly sliding around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

“Mmm,” she said against his lips. “Got any oil? So, we can get her all ripe and ready to go?”

He dragged his mouth down the length of her throat and said, “All out. Need to pick some up.”

“Pity,” she said her hands sliding down to cup his arse. “How’s about getting’ _me_ all ripe and ready to go?”

His answer was to lift her onto the seat of the bike and slide his hand under her skirt.

When she turned up at his flat the next day, she had her toolbox and a large can of oil and the biggest grin he’d ever seen on her face.

***

One night after another long, long week of crime that seemed to never end, Lestrade finally had enough time to meet up with her at the Tube stop near the Yard. She smiled when she saw him and didn’t say anything, just took his hand as they headed into the Underground.

Once on the platform, Lestrade leaned against the wall and Kaylee looped her arms around his waist. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and focused on breathing in her scent. Her arms tightened around him briefly.

A laughing woman with her friends further down the platform started to play her clarinet on what must have been a dare. But the sound was sweet and soft and just a little jazzy. It made a corner of Lestrade’s mouth curve upwards. Kaylee lifted her head and watched the woman playing for a moment. Then she looked up at Lestrade and brought one of her hands up to run along the slope of his nose, over his jaw and across his lips. He leaned down and kissed her slowly.

And he knew that when they get back to his flat, there won’t be much in the refrigerator, as usual, and he’ll order Chinese. But she’ll insist on getting an order of stir-fried vegetables because he needs more iron and they’ll eat using chopsticks and he’ll use them to stab at the food and she’ll snicker and then they’ll fall asleep on the couch with the footie on telly on low.

And it’ll be more than nice.


End file.
